Julia Ongking, Philippines

été / tag-init

on the news, they say it’s been the hottest été in ten years. she is told to stay home between the hours of 10 to 4. apparently, les âgées have been dropping like flies because of the extraordinary heat. she finishes work early, then, positioning herself in front of the tv for the rest of the day, remembering to drink a liter of water an hour. her phone vibrates with a text from her mother: make sure to stay protected, derma’s closed for the month! the girl then realizes that she’s run out of sunblock, and puts in a commande for her favorite La Roche-Posay creme solaire, to prevent her emerging melasma from metastasizing throughout her cheeks. she was told once melasma begins to spread, it will never stop. it is very hard to remove, and can affect her quality of life for the worse. in another world, however, she thinks about yung matanda back home. on her way to school, she watches as they sweep the streets in broad daylight and holds young but ashen knuckles tapping softly against kongkong’s bulletproof windows. we, the filipino are sanay with the heat. even the word itself knows: tag-init, or rooted in heat.  tonight, she will remember to kill the climatiseur before it gets too cold. tonight, she will dream about the manong that she passes by when she musters enough energy for her everyday 6am gym classes. she winces at the sun glaring obnoxiously through the rearview mirror, as she notices the manong lying on an unfolded cardboard box, waiting from the araw’s call to start another grueling day of work.

A Chinese Morena

in math class we learn if two things are mutually exclusive 

there is zero probability of an event occurring with these 

things together. i raise my hand, then put it down. i want to tell 

my teacher that i am an exception to this rule because my aunties 

dressed in white long-sleeves stare at my too-dark skin on sunday 

trips to nasugbu, deciding to speak in a language i cannot 

understand my father calls me disrespectful for not responding 

to any of their questions but when i talk to the manongs they bleed 

out their noses when they reach deep in their throat for stilted 

syllables of english marunong ka pala mag-tagalog? i nod but 

they are unconvinced by tear-shaped eyes and the presence 

of only one eyelid wondering if i am like the man on the tv 

stealing their islands, waiting to see if the edges of eyes will morph

into knives, cold, steely, turned away by world-class filipino hospitality.

Julia Ongking currently lives in her beautiful home country: the Philippines. Born and raised as a Chinese-Filipino, she enjoys developing her perspectives through reading, writing, and having meaningful conversations with people from all walks of life. Her work has appeared in SAND Literature, Third Wednesday, and Rappler Magazine, amongst other digital and print publications. Her work has also been recognized by the Scholastic Arts and Writing Awards.